What the Single Dad Wants... Read Free Page B

had already done beforecoming here—she admitted the reason her tongue had remained so unnaturally—for her—dormant.
    â€œI’m sorry, Ms. Del Vecchio, I’m a huge fan of yours—”
    Anastasia sat up a little straighter, pleased. Preening. Her eyes smiled first. It was a magnificent sight and she knew it. “Nothing to be sorry about, dear.”
    â€œIt’s just that it’s going to take me a few minutes to get used to be being in the same room with you,” Isabelle confessed. She did her best not to take any noticeable deep breaths.
    Anastasia’s pleased smile deepened, going clear down to the bone. “I understand, dear,” she sympathized, then tried to lean closer but found that her hip prevented any fluid movements on her part. Silently cursing the impediment, she asked, “Tell me, which of my movies have you seen?”
    â€œAll of them.”
    â€œReally.” Anastasia stretched the word out as she absorbed the young woman’s meaning. A slightly canny look came over Anastasia’s still amazingly youthful features. After all, Isabelle Sinclair might just be paying lip service, saying what she assumed someone of her stature wanted to hear. “And exactly how many was that?”
    Again, there was no reason for Isabelle to even pause to think. She had the answer at the tip of her tongue. She rarely forgot facts she’d learned. “Fifty-three movies, three TV series and two miniseries on PBS,” she recited.
    Anastasia raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Fifty-two movies,” she corrected generously.
    â€œYou had an unbilled walk-on in It Takes Two, ” Isabelle reminded her, unfazed.
    Highly impressed, Anastasia declared warmly, “You’re hired, Isabelle. So when can you move in?”
    Isabelle blinked. Had she missed something? “Excuse me?”
    â€œI’m going to need round-the-clock work,” Anastasia explained, not accustomed to having to explain herself. “None of this ‘an hour here and I’ll see you Tuesday’ nonsense. I have a play I’m going to be in, Isabelle,” she told her with deadly earnest. “I’ve a key role in the revival of A Little Night Music. I sing ‘Send in the Clowns,’” she said with a proud toss of her head, adding, “I have put in a great deal of work on this play and I’m not about to have them give my part away to that understudy Channing brought in because of a silly little fall.” Her famous eyes became narrow slits as she confided, “She reminds me of Anne Baxter’s character in All About Eve.”
    Isabelle hesitated for a moment. This was an opportunity of a lifetime, and every fiber in her body wanted to shout “Yes!” to the suggestion about moving in for the duration— my God, living with Anastasia Del Vecchio! —but it wasn’t a decision she could arbitrarily make on her own without at least informing Zoe about it. Otherwise, her sister was going to set her up with other clients as well, and Anastasia apparently intended to monopolize her.
    â€œI’m going to have to check in with my sister, Miss Del Vecchio. Zoe runs the business,” she added when the woman looked at her incredulously.
    Obstacles were meant to be plowed through, not circumvented. Anastasia had been doing it all her life. “I’m sure it’ll be fine with ‘Zoe.’ I’ll pay twice the going rate,” she added, confident that would seal the bargain. She took her cell phone out of the pocket of her bedjacket. “Giving me the agency’s number, please,” she instructed.
    It was at that point that Brandon walked back in. Something had told him that perhaps he should come to the physical therapist’s aid—his mother could be utterly overwhelming, and the petite therapist brought out the protector in him.
    â€œSo, what’s the verdict?” The question was